Undone : Episode 1 : Rebirth (Pt1)

The start of a very long series detailing the main storyline of Destiny. Been working on this a while, outlining and such, and each mission is looking to be ~10 pages long. Enjoy! [b]Mission 1: Rebirth[/b] The Cosmodrome had never been a friendly place. Beautiful, maybe, but too dangerous to appreciate; if you stopped long enough to smell the flowers, if you found any, you’d have superheated arc wire flying through your skull before you could bend a knee. And that’s if you were lucky. Worse things had happened to those too brave and too stupid for the lands beyond the City. Like this Ghost, for instance. Keeping a low profile among the wreckage of what was once a major thruway, the one-eyed contraption darted in and out of long-abandoned vehicles, pausing and scanning along the way. It seemed far from systematic, its method of perusing the debris, skipping over dozens of rusted chassis just to peer into one further on. It stopped at another, looking through the gaping hole where the driver’s door once attached some untold time ago, and coldly inspected the remains of the vehicle’s thoroughly deceased operator. The dry bones made no reply, and the Ghost darted through the cabin and continued its search. Two hundred meters behind, maintaining a distance just beyond the tiny explorer’s radar range, a Fallen Captain gazed down the scope of his wire rifle. He knew the Ghost was somewhere in the grouping of transports and… aha! There. The prey had not escaped, and the hunt was still on. Whatever the contraption sought, it would not find today; his Archon desired a new trophy, and these tiny cyclopes were rare enough caught dead, never mind living and fighting. The Captain stood, and heard his compatriots behind him leap forward, ready to do his bidding. Ignoring the Dreg to his left, he glanced over his other shoulder and barked an order to his second-in-command, an eager and capable Vandal. Without hesitation, his subordinates rushed forward to take down their target. The climax of the hunt was approaching, and the Captain felt the rush flow from his chest down all four arms. Head tilted to the sky, he let loose a throaty roar, a battle cry that his prey would hear but could not escape. Further in the distance, a shape moved against the horizon, well beyond the sensors of the tiny Ghost or the tunnel-vision perception of its hunters. A crouched figure moved slowly and intentionally, watching the scene ahead unfold. One steady hand held a rifle aside as the other braced against the rock’s edge, and the body lowered itself gracefully to the tall grass. There was a pause, not uncertain but perhaps calculating, a step forward, and nothing. Wind blew undisturbed through where the figure just stood, and the paranoid glance of the Dreg in the distance fell on empty ground. An angry growl from his superior, and the minion was back on the hunt. Nearly at the Wall now, the Ghost stopped to scan another crumpled mess of what was once a living thing. A hint of frustration creeped into the one eye, the top shell lowering as the scan came back negative. Not much longer and he would have to return to the City, to the Tower where he could forget about the overconfident Fallen bearing down on him and another unsuccessful day. Or not forget; it’s very hard for a Ghost to forget. A few meters further, and another blip caught his attention. He stopped and made a preliminary scan, like so many thousands before. Yet, the result was not like the other thousands. “Is it possible?” The emitted voice trilled with surprise and excitement, though doubt crept into the words. Why here, among these wrecks? Why now, after so much and with so little left? He pulsed his shell open, waves of scans oscillating the blue orb at his core, the globe of light growing larger with joy at every positive analysis. Every test passed, and there was no question left in the Ghost’s mind. The search was over. “There you are.” - Light. Gray peeking through where there should only be darkness, as the Guardian cracked open his eyes for the first time in… how many years? [i]Unknown[/i]. Physical state? [i]Been worse; quite recently, actually[/i]. Still, the servos don’t get better with age. A voice berated him, calling a name that was at once belonging to him and entirely unfamiliar. External communications not entirely functional yet, the most he could manage was a groan in response; he had to see before he could respond to orders. A few lens and iris adjustments, and his surroundings began to take shape. The landscape was a bit more rusted and abused than the last time he saw it, but, then again, so was he. His vision rose from the car frame to… [i]Well, that’s new. [/i] “You’re alive!” The object hovered uncomfortably close to his face, staring at him with a single flickering eye. A shell of eight pieces, four each in the front and back, composed a shell surrounding the central sphere, resulting in a vaguely cube-shaped appearance. The voice clearly came from the object, though he could discern no visible speaker; then again, the same could be said for himself. He attempted a response, but only mustered another questioning grunt. “You don't know how long I've been looking for you. I'm a Ghost. Actually, now I'm your Ghost.” [i]Glad to hear things didn’t get boring while I was gone[/i]. He attempted to move his arms and felt the strain of unused joints and motors, stubborn after such neglect. His hands were the worst off; anything requiring dexterity would be a struggle for a while yet. “And you, well, you’ve been dead for a long time. So you’re going to see a lot of things you won’t understand.” “You don’t say,” the Guardian remarked, closing his fists in an effort to loosen up the bearings. A guttural yowl, far off but still too close for liking, caught the Ghost’s attention. The Guardian followed the line of sight, trying to spot the source, but no threats revealed themselves. Of course, that didn’t mean there were no threats. The Ghosts turned back to him, concerned. “This is Fallen territory, we aren’t safe here.” “Fallen?” The wheels were still turning, trying to catch up with physical and environmental changes and, well, being alive. Tiny Ghosts and howling Fallen added to the mix, and the Guardian was beginning to compile a list of questions. Which continued to grow. “I have to get you to the City.” The Ghost began to wander off, looking worriedly away from its Guardian. “What city?” [i]And while you’re answering that, how about asking, “How are you feeling?” Or, “Did you have a nice nap?” [/i] “Hold still.” The Guardian opened his mouth, ready to lay into the dismissive little bot about its bedside manners, when it blinked out of existence. A moment later, he felt a presence in his mind, like he was sharing space in a room that had always been only his. “Don't worry, I'm still with you.” The voice sounded infinitely close, like someone else had thought the words for him inside his own head. “We need to move, fast.” [i]That feels strange[/i], he began, but there was no time to think. He was unarmed and in hostile territory. Survival first, questions later. The Ghost seemed to read his mind. “We won't survive long out in the open like this. Let's get inside the Wall.” “Can you be a little more specific than just ‘The Wall?’” The Ghost had been mysterious and vague one too many times, and the Guardian didn’t try to hold the irritation from creeping into his voice. “What w…” The Guardian looked up and finally recognized what was in front of him. “Ah. That Wall.” Stretching hundreds of feet into the darkening sky and disappearing into the fog to both the north and south, the Wall towered over the Cosmodrome outskirts. With paint peeled and metal rusted, the structure had seen better days, but was still an imposing and defiant defense. It had not held back every threat, however. The Guardian rushed forward, making a beeline for the nearest entrance. His legs in motion, enemies behind, uncertainty ahead… things were starting to feel familiar again. All he needed was a weapon, and he would be unstoppable. His Ghost wasn’t as confident. “I didn't bring you back just for you to die again, we have to move.” Rushing through the open door, the Guardian quickly glanced behind him. [i]Still no sign of those Fallen. Maybe they’re keeping a distance, but why?[/i] Whatever the reason, he didn’t feel like sticking around and finding out, especially unarmed. Not having a weapon was really getting to him. “Well, having a gun would probably increase our chances.” “Ok... I need to find you a weapon before the Fallen find us.” [i]A bit too late for that[/i]. But if the Ghost could find him something to fight with, he wouldn’t complain. Up the stairs and around the corner, the Guardian started across the catwalk. Sunlight creeped in through the windows, dim and tinted red through the painted glass. Dust disturbed from the Guardian’s presence diffused the light further, imitating the evening fog outside, as the lone Exo pushed past the windows and into darkness. His Ghost appeared at his shoulder, shining a wide beam of light ahead. “Quiet. They're right above us.” The Guardian didn’t have to ask who or where; he knew he was being tracked. It was only a matter of time before there was a fight. But preferably not here, in the dark, still weaponless. Past the catwalk but still surrounded by darkness, the Guardian made his way toward the stairwell. A scratching noise ahead gave him pause, and the Ghost illuminated a hole in the wall ahead just in time to see a pair of legs disappear, scrambling through the inner workings of the facility.[i] Sneaky buggers, great. [/i]